


Wrecked

by FenHarelsPride (Andauril)



Series: Siryn Lavellan [5]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Redcliffe Castle Aftermath
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-16
Updated: 2015-05-16
Packaged: 2018-03-30 19:57:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3949711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Andauril/pseuds/FenHarelsPride
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He was gone.</p><p>Siryn took in a deep breath, pushing her own blankets aside, grabbing her coat to throw it over, scrabbling out of her tent. It was a bad idea and she was already cursing herself for it – she was a grown woman, not an afraid young maiden who needed to hide herself in her blankets at night – but she had to look for him.</p><p>The image of Solas’ broken, limb form, lying dead in the door way, just didn’t want to leave her mind.</p><p>***</p><p>Siryn Lavellan is emotionally distraught after what she had witnessed in the red future. One night, during their way back to Haven, she seeks Solas out to confess her fears to him ...</p><p>(Warning because a pretty nasty dream, for caution.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wrecked

His body hit the floor with a thud, his head bouncing off the stone, eyes wide and unseeing. Demon claws, long and sharp, raked at his broken form, tearing apart flesh, soaking his clothes in streams of lazily flowing blood. There was no heartbeat to press it out of torn veins.

Part of her knew that this was but a dream, crafted from her memory, but Siryn could not avert her eyes, could not move. Her muscles, every inch of her body was frozen in place. The taste of ashes filled her mouth, and she wished she would wake, she wished …

_Wake up, wake up, wake up!_

Demon claws tore at his limb and broken form, until she heard the terrible wet noise of flesh tearing and the crack of bones breaking. She wanted to leap forward, to burn them to ashes, to punish them, but she could not move a single finger …

_Wake up! Wake up!_

One of the demons grabbed his head, digging sharp nails into his scalp, leaping backwards and she could hear bones snapping …

Siryn awoke with a start.

It took her a few moments to realize where she was … Oiled red panels over her head, a reserved V shape. She was lying at her side, knees pulled up to her chin, underneath course but comfortable blankets. This was her tent. The tent she shared with …

She rolled around – the beat of her heart pounding and thrumming loudly inside her chest – to cast a glance at Solas’ bedroll. The blankets were pushed aside, the mat deserted, the pillow slightly dented where his head had rested.

He was gone.

Siryn took in a deep breath, pushing her own blankets aside, grabbing her coat to throw it over, scrabbling out of her tent. It was a bad idea and she was already cursing herself for it – she was a grown woman, not an afraid young maiden who needed to hide herself in her blankets at night – but she had to look for him.

The image of Solas’ broken, limb form, lying dead in the door way, just didn’t want to leave her mind.

He had to be on watch. They were far from any official Inquisition camp, with no Inquisition scouts searching the nearby hills for dangers. The darkness of the night was only disturbed by the glowing green Breach at the horizon. It looked like a feverish and festering wound in the sky.

The mere sight of it made her shudder, and she drew her coat closer. The memory of how it had consumed all of the sky was still too vibrant.

Siryn inhaled deeply.

She had spotted him at the nearest hill top, a sharp silhouette against the greenish glowing Breach, his eyes glowing in the dark as they reflected the far its away light.

At a quick pace, she left the camp to climb up to him.

***

The night was pleasingly quiet. In the distance, Solas could hear the lonely cry of a nocturnal bird – an owl, most certainly. The air was still, unstirred, not disturbed by a single breeze.

He could hear the distant rustle of a flysheet, and the light-footed approach of a pair of feet climbing up the hillside behind. Siryn Lavellan closed the last few steps of distance between them, standing beside him.

Her hair was unkempt, tangled, and seemed to wear little apart from the coat she had thrown over her slender form. Both brows and jaw showed tenseness he was not quite used from her, worry creasing the corners of her eyes.

Solas had seen her serious, focused at the task, determined. All this were qualities he had come to value in her. They assured him that the mark – his magic – was safe within her hand, that she would not misuse the power she had been accidently granted with.

This facet of her, however, was something he was not truly accustomed of seeing.

“I was looking for you.” She turned her face to look at him.

“I assumed as much. Your watch is not in due for another few hours.”

“I’m sorry if I’m bothering you. I …” She sighed. “Bad dreams.”

Solas creased his brow. “You did seem to have them more often these nights.” He hesitated. “If I can offer you any assistance, I would be glad to help.”

When he first had given her advice at how to avoid or escape her nightmares, he had done it without much thought about her personally. It had been something of no consequence. But months had passed since, and while they passed, his stance towards her had changed. He considered her a friend.

He found himself seriously concerned about her well-being, not for the sake of their shared mission, but for herself.

Siryn’s gaze was intense, filled to the brim with emotions he could not quite discern, muddled together in one silent ravaging storm behind her eyes.

“I haven’t … told you everything that happened. In Redcliffe Castle.”

“You have witnessed something there? Aside from a world consumed by the Breach and conquered by the Elder One, I would presume.”

“Yes …” She exhaled slowly. “I’ve seen …” She ran fingers through her hair, and he noticed that her hand was slightly shaking. “You were there, Solas. Not like me or Dorian, not displaced in time. They’d captured you, thrown you in a prison cell. They fed you red lyrium … when I found you … I hated to see you like this.”

He was not used to hear her voice quaver. She never had stroke as someone overly emotional – she had been friendly, curious, insecure only at first, before she had begun to take up the mantle she had been handed. A little lost, perhaps, at least in the beginning, due to being Dalish. But never had she appeared shaken.

“You were weak, Solas. You told me you were dying, and I promised … I told you I would safe you.” She shook her head. “It was terrible. The Breach was everywhere, and red lyrium … it grew out of the walls and out of … people. The Veil was _ripped_ , Solas. I’ve never seen so many rifts before at one place. At least five only in the castle. I can’t stop thinking about it, about what will happen … I am the only one who can seal rifts. You know what it takes to make this future happen? Just one moment. One strike. I’m just one moment away of failing everyone.”

Solas felt his whole body inevitably tensing.  None of this would have happened if not for him. What advice could he give to her? The Breach – and all what she had witnessed in the future – was as much his doing as it was the Elder One’s. This knowledge was a sharp sting, a reminder of his own foolishness. She would not even be here without him.

“You died.” Her words were but a whisper. “I promised you to save you, and you died.”

“But you have returned. With luck, nothing of what have witnessed will ever come to pass.”

“But you still died! I can’t … I can’t stop thinking about it.” Her eyes looked alarmingly wet. “I don’t … I don’t want to lose you, Solas. I already lost you once. Damn ...”

Her confession startled him. The concern written on her face was plain, real, sharp, creasing the corners of her eyes. It surprised him. She was not worried for herself, but for him. He did not quite know how to react to it. His answers had left him, suddenly, washed away by her words.

He had not expected this. Her kind had framed him as the villain of their tales, painted him a madman and a monster.

It had been so long since the last time someone had cared for him. He had forgotten how it felt to be looked upon with fondness, with true friendship. It meant something.

She meant something.

She surprised him time and again.

She stirred something inside him. A longing that long since had lain dormant, that he could not quite discern. He found his gaze lingering upon her a little too long, found himself smiling about something she had said, found his thoughts sometimes wandering unasked from his tasks to her.

Perhaps is was why he didn’t shy away from her, the sudden warmth of her body pressing against him and her arms wrapped around his neck and his back, from her face pressing against his shoulders.

For one moment, he just stood there, startled by her embrace. It was unexpected and confusing, and … not at all unpleasant. With a sigh, he gave in, enfolding her in his arms.  

“Damn …” She breathed. “Please, I couldn’t … just, don’t die. You’re my friend, Solas. I can’t … bear this a second time.” She shuddered, and the step back she took seemed unwilling, hesitating.

“I have no intents of doing so, Siryn.” He raised his hand to brush again her tears with his thumb, and she let out a tiny whimper. “Believe me that I hold no desire to die.”

She looked up to him, tears glittering at long, curved lashes. The turmoil behind her eyes was almost corporal, a dozen feelings fighting a silent battle.

“I’ll take you up to that.”

Solas did not answer. As much as he wished he could, he was in no position to promise her. If he could correct his past mistakes without dying, he would prefer it – but if it demanded his death …

He found comfort in the knowledge that at least she would mourn him.

She released hold of his arm, taking a step back. “Thank you, Solas. For listening to me … I know I shouldn’t have bothered you with this.”

“You did not bother me.” He doubted that she ever could.

“Do you mind if I just … stay here until my watch?”

“No. Feel free to stay as long as you like.”

He would never mind the presence of a true friend. Loneliness was only bearable if it was chosen.

 

 

 


End file.
